


a place in the sun | eighth doctor

by nihilisten



Series: my reader inserts [39]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilisten/pseuds/nihilisten
Summary: What do you see when you close your eyes?[eighth doctor/reader]
Relationships: Eighth Doctor/Reader, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader
Series: my reader inserts [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1048064
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	a place in the sun | eighth doctor

**Author's Note:**

> This one's unedited & messy, my apologies. I've been itching to finally post something for one of my favourite Doctors. <3

The Doctor sees the good in everything.

You often wonder how he does that, but the conclusion you reach is always the same, unsatisfying and boring ‘it has to do with his alienness’. You can’t understand him because he’s not of your kind. He’s like a higher being who somehow manages to step down, make contact with the ‘others’, like you, for example. Why he does that, you can’t even start to imagine.

Travelling with him is wonderful, that much is certain. He’s got vast knowledge about every little thing under the sun and doesn’t shy away from sharing it; you’re never bored of conversing, listening to his stories, sharing space with him. He gives you all that you never knew you needed, and more.

If only you could give anything back to him.

This nagging feeling in the back of your brain is about the only drawback of boarding the TARDIS. It never quite disappears, regardless of how happy and grateful you feel next to the Doctor. Had you expressed those insecurities, he’d probably scold you; no doubt, whatever good he sees in every living being, he must have seen it in you. Of course you’re a worthy companion. But are you really?

Either his perspective is too alien, or you’re just blind.

“Doctor?”

You call out to him without giving it more thought than, say, breathing. He looks over. Whatever he’s been doing by the console of the ship is now long forgotten, and his attention is fully on you. For some reason, this makes you abashed.

“Do you dream?”

The question you ask isn’t a usual one, but he doesn’t look surprised. His eyes flicker back to one of the screens on the console.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m just curious what’s going on in your mind.” You lean back on one of the antique chairs by the tea table in the console room. It’s comfortable enough for you to sit for hours on end. “What do you see when you close your eyes? Do you have silly dreams about people you haven’t seen for ages? Happy dreams? Sad dreams? Nightmares?”

You half expect him to snort and tell you – whether or not you could understand is another matter – that he dreams of the flow of time; all the twists and turns that make up the ultimately intricate, ultimately beautiful universe. Every single star, every single moon and galaxy, every inch of every space in existence. Everything that is born and everything that dies.

But all he does is chuckle and say, “Yes, I do. I have silly dreams, scary dreams, dreams of memories from a long time ago. Same as you.”

You blink. Lies, a thought flickers in your mind. The Doctor might be the kindest person you’ve ever met, but the bottom line is you are a human and he is a Time Lord. There’s no chance you and he could be anything alike.

Your doubts seem to reach him, one way or another. The next second he’s abandoned the console to sit on the other chair opposite the tea table—opposite you.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s not—I’m sorry, Doctor.” You let out a deep sigh. “I just don’t understand. You’re so wise, so powerful. It’s hard to wrap my head around why you’d want be in the company of the likes of me, let alone dream like me. _Think_ like me.”

“Y/N.” His voice is stern, solemn but gentle like his very being. “I wouldn’t be half as wise and powerful had it not been for every single person I’ve met.”

Whatever he’s trying to say silences you this instant. You look at him, wide-eyed, only to see that he’s returning your gaze with equal might.

“That’s why I dream of them, all the friends that I’ve ever had. The happy moments, the sad ones as well. They are all equally precious. I never forget, because they create me. All of _you_ create me.”

You don’t know why, but there’s warmth in your chest, like the sun itself has decided to shine upon you, bless you with its comforting presence. The Doctor’s words keep resounding in your head until you’re circling around the same old problem, but with a new conclusion.

The Doctor sees the good in everything.

And the more time you spend with him, the more you wish to view the world through his eyes, too.


End file.
